


baby, let's go home

by demi_god



Series: oneshots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, But really there's fluff, Family Feels, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Orphan Stiles Stilinski, Overdosing, There's also fluff somewhere, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demi_god/pseuds/demi_god
Summary: "Please," he begs the wind. "Let me take you home."
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski, side Isaac Lahey/Stiles Stilinski
Series: oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2032120
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44
Collections: Teen Wolf





	baby, let's go home

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted in tumblr, unedited, and divided in parts. 
> 
> This is a work I needed to get out of my chest because the bad place is just consuming me, and I needed to write it down. Warnings are on the tags.
> 
> The title is from the song [Hold On](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ofCZObsnOo) by Chord Overstreet. Seriously, that song hit close to home.

i.

Theo is nine when his parents take another child into their custody. He doesn't understand why they would do such a thing; they never take care of him and Tara. Not that he _needs_ coddling, but he's just saying, is all. It doesn't make a lick of sense.

The new boy is pale, gangly, and is probably going to fall on his butt if Theo so much as breezes past him. The first night, he doesn't eat apart from three pieces of peas and spends all night crying. Theo _knows_ ; they're currently sharing his bedroom.

That makes sense because he has a bunk bed, but it doesn't mean he's happy with the arrangement. His mother promises his room back once they've cleaned up the guest-turned-storage room. But now, he's not falling asleep because of the loud sniffling. When he can't take it, his temper gets the best of him, and he snaps at the boy curled into a fetal position on his lower bunk. The boy mumbles an apology and covers his face with the pillow to muffle his sobbing.

Theo's almost asleep when he hears it. The boy is whispering into the darkness, faint and pleading: "I just want to go home."

Theo feels just a little bit guilty for getting mad.

~•~

ii.

Theo is ten, and the boy has been with them for almost a year now. His name is Stiles, and he's not from Beacon Hills.

Both of his parents are dead; his mother succumbed to dementia, and his father got shot on patrol. His parents knew Stiles's father, a former Sheriff, from an old criminal case they handled together. They became friends, learned about his wife's then lengthy hospital stay, and promised the Sheriff to assist him any way they could. Hence, _Stiles_.

They don't talk much, and that's because Stiles _doesn't speak much_. He's still living under Theo's bunk, but he's used to the boy's presence now. Stiles doesn't cry himself to sleep anymore. But he does wake up gasping in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and eyes wide in panicked horror. The boy mumbles his apologies to Theo, who jerks awake with him and scrambles to the side all the time, and then goes back to bed. Theo's sure he doesn't fall asleep again, though, because the dark rings around his eyes in the morning are telling enough.

Stiles doesn't have friends at school. He keeps to himself and never once acknowledges Theo while on the school premises. He eats by himself during lunch and stands quiet and distant beside him and Tara while they wait for Theo's dad to collect them after school.

One day, after class hours, he isn't in his usual waiting spot. Tara is worried and wants to look for Stiles, but Theo steps in to volunteer.

He finds Stiles in an empty classroom, the twelfth one Theo checked. He's huddled in a depressing corner, hugging his knees to his chest while he hides his face in the cradle of his arms. Theo walks closer and notices the quaking of his shoulders that's a tell-tale sign. Theo inwardly debates his next step, but he bites his lip and crouches before Stiles.

Stiles tenses when he notes another presence in the room, and he reluctantly lifts his head. His eyes are red-rimmed, wet, and puffy. He visibly eases when he sees it's Theo but doesn't make a move to shift. He moves his gaze down and remains unspeaking.

Then, Theo notices his clenched left fist. There's an object he's holding tightly in his fingers. It's something small, bronze, and crumpled.

Stiles sniffs again, tears racing down over his bony cheeks. Barely audibly, he says. "I just want to go home."

He lets Stiles cry for another five minutes or so before urging him to stand. The boy does, defeatedly, wiping his face with the collar of his white shirt. He wordlessly pockets the object in his hand.

Later that night, Theo wakes from a noise that sounds like soft hammering. He surreptitiously moves to the edge of his bunk and chances a peep down. Stiles is on the floor, thumping a small object with Theo's baseball bat repeatedly. He's making an effort to be quiet, but Theo's a light sleeper, anyway. Theo stares curiously at the bronze material that Stiles raises when the boy finishes with it. Stiles gazes at it longingly, tears welling in his eyes, as he caresses the circular deformed thing.

"I just want to go home, dad."

In the morning, Theo doesn't mean to, but he spies the same object poking out from under Stiles's pillow while he's in the shower. He hesitates, but his curiosity wins. He takes it in his hand and understands.

It's a police badge: _Sheriff, Santa Barbara County_.

~•~

iii.

Theo is eleven when Stiles finally opens up to them. It's not surprising that it's Tara who gets to him first. She's always liked Stiles and strives to persuade words and reactions out of him anytime possible, although it was out of sympathy at the beginning. Gradually, she develops genuine care and sees Stiles as a younger brother as days, months, and years drag on. Soon, two years is up, and it takes them that long to hear the boy laugh.

It's during a movie night, the rare ones when both adult Raekens are home. They're watching _Goblet of Fire_ , and while Tara and Stiles have their eyes on the television, they're visibly distracted as the girl leans and whispers things to Stiles now and then. The boy's eyes look alive and alight with her words. His lips are twitching in one of his rare smiles. When one of the characters gets turned into a ferret by a one-eyed teacher, _it happens_. Stiles bursts out in a fit of giggles at whatever Tara has said.

It gives everyone a moment's pause, even Tara. Stiles doesn't notice the astonishment in their faces or merely disregards. And then, Tara beams and tells him something again. Stiles bobs his head readily as his pale cheeks and entire disposition bloom in vibrant colors at once. Theo's parents exchange ecstatic glances, and then Theo's mother leans over to them, laughing.

"Well, you two seem to be having fun," She comments, shooting her gaze back and forth between Tara and Stiles. Theo has never seen her mother so delighted in his life.

Stiles doesn't resign back to his passive demeanor. Instead, he chuckles and confesses, "Tara and I have been talking about how Theodore is a muggle Draco Malfoy."

Theo whirls his head sharply, brows furrowed in a deep scowl, "I'm most certainly _not_ ,"

Tara points a finger to him, snickering, "That's what a muggle Draco Malfoy would say,"

Theo throws a pillow in her direction, but she pays no mind as she and Stiles press closer to whisper to each other again, conspiratorial. Stiles laughs about three more times before the movie finishes. As they walk to Theo's bedroom, he notices the significant lightness in Stiles's steps, like he knows there won't be a nightmare, for once. Theo doesn't even feel bad that it's at his expense that Stiles finally comes out of his cocoon.

~•~

The next weekend, Theo's parents are home again and excitedly announce that they're going out to the zoo, the park, the ice rink, the pizza, and the ice cream parlor as _family_.

Stiles glazes over at the word for a second -delaying, pondering, before his face splits to a wide-open expression, his eyes smiling with his mouth.

It's like the end of a two-year storm.

~•~

At school, he starts participating, and it's no wonder to discover Stiles is smart. Teachers are startled the first time they see his hand coming up to volunteer an answer. Other students also start talking to him again, and he doesn't shut them out anymore. He waves at Theo when they pass each other in the corridor. Stiles's lunch table starts filling with people, and Theo sometimes shares with them, too. It's a turnabout from his previous outcast status. Theo thinks he fits right into the light. He's too bright to stay in the shadows. 

He even manages to befriend one of the nastiest boys in their school - Jackson Whittemore. He's a bully, and even Theo dislikes him. He's certainly made fun of Stiles. But when Jackson freezes in front of the chalkboard, panicking over his assigned equation, Stiles quietly whispers to him the solution before turning back to his seat.

Stiles spends lunch partially to assist Jackson in his maths since then.

"He crushed my dad's badge when we were in 4th grade," Stiles tells Theo one evening, as they lay belly-down on the carpeted floor of their room. It's not _Theo's_ bedroom any longer, and he doesn't want it to be. They're answering homework under the soft glow of their lamp.

Theo remembers that day: Stiles in an empty room, hunched down like he bore the weight of the world with his dad's crooked police badge in between tight fingers.

He looks at the side of Stiles's face, frowning. "Then why are you friends?"

Stiles only shrugs, biting on the end of his pencil. He doesn't turn his attention from the book. "I understand him,"

He doesn't elaborate, but Theo learns what Stiles meant, anyway. They have gym class together, and Jackson gets into a fight with the meek kid, McCall. He's not as unassuming as they thought.

"I'm just saying," Jackson is sneering, face in an ugly twist. "Stop brooding because your drunk father left. You should be thankful. It's a good riddance."

Scott doesn't perceive it well. He takes three strides and pulls Jackson by the collar. Almost everyone is astounded; Scott has never been violent. He's asthmatic and kind of stumbles on his own feet.

Stiles stands alert at the altercation, hurrying to get in between the two. Theo follows, hissing and groaning, unable to stop Stiles from intermediating.

"Scott," Stiles begins in a soothing voice, eyes level on the livid boy. "Scott, please let go. _Jackson_ , stop flaring your nostrils, Jesus."

Theo cranes his neck around, trying to catch sight of the gym instructor. Of all the times he could be gone, he chooses now.

Scott only has eyes on Jackson. He's heaving from barely-held rage. "Mind your business," he grits out, sparing Stiles a glare, then darting back to Jackson. "It's easy for you two. You don't have parents. You're only living off the charity of others."

Theo double-takes, looking at the McCall kid in silent horror. Jackson snarls indignantly at his low-blow remark, but Stiles freezes, mouth agape. He steps back, dazed, letting their other classmates take his place, and he turns to leave. Theo hurries after him, ignoring the whistle of the coach as he arrives on the scene.

Theo finds Stiles on the waiting bench. He's bent down, clasping his hands together, attention lost to the gravel below. His bag is haphazardly lying on the pavement beside him. It's still class hours technically, but it's last period, anyway. He doesn't worry about missing the last twenty minutes of gym class. Theo takes a seat to his right unobtrusively, looking at the empty driving lane.

No words exchanged for a while; Theo doesn't know how to comfort people. He's not good with words, but he can be around. Then, Stiles looks up to him.

"I'm not even _adopted_ ," he tells Theo matter-of-factly. "I'm just a stranger living off the mercy of your parents."

Theo wants to disagree. He knows for a fact that neither his parents nor he and Tara feel sorry for him anymore. Stiles is _family_. Theo's words get lost, however, in the pool of rich gold receding to obscurity.

Stiles's lips smirk, but his eyes tell a different story.

"It's okay," Stiles's long lashes are damp. "You don't have to say anything." He drops his head again, squeezing his eyes close. "I just want to go home."

~•~

iv.

They're twelve when Theo's parents get approved by the court to be Stiles's legal guardians. The process took quite some time when it's usually a pretty quick one. _Nonetheless_ , Stiles officially belongs with the Raekens now -by heart and law. 

When Stiles hears about it over breakfast, he stands from his seat and rounds the table to hug Theo's mother and father as tight as he could. He looks so happy and thrilled that the feeling resonates with everyone in the room. Tara squeals and almost picks Stiles off the floor with the force of her embrace.

Stiles cooks lunch that day. Theo's parents are astonished, and so are Tara and Theo. He's surprisingly efficient in the kitchen, a fact none of them knew before today. He makes them beef steak and barbecue ribs. There's a side of vegetable salad with olive oil and apple pie for dessert. Everything tastes good.

After, Stiles bakes a simple chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. He invites Tara to their bedroom to a blanket fort he made, and there they stuff their faces with cake and coca-cola. By mid-afternoon, Tara excuses herself when her phone rings in the middle of _The Lord of the Rings_ marathon.

"It's her boyfriend," Theo tells Stiles, wrinkling his nose.

Tara is three years their senior and is in her first relationship. She told her brothers and made them both swear not to snitch to their parents. They agreed out of sibling loyalty, and Tara rewards them by sneaking junk food into their secret stash. It's a win-win situation. 

That doesn't mean Theo doesn't find it weird that someone likes kissing Tara and talking to her over the phone for _hours_ , though.

"Do you think you'll have one when you're fifteen?" Stiles asks, peering at him curiously.

Theo's brows furrow, "A _boyfriend_?"

Stiles cocks his head to the side, shrugs, and blinks.

Theo considers it for a moment. He doesn't find any boy attractive -well, except for Stiles, he thinks, but Stiles doesn't count; they're best friends- and girls annoy him. He stretches his lips in a downward arch, "I don't know. Maybe."

When _The Two Towers_ end, they take their bicycle to the nearby lake. Stiles picks a flower -a common poppy- and gives it to the water. He takes something out of his pocket. Theo recognizes it; his dad's battered old police badge.

Stiles stares at it as he runs his thumb on its surface. He smiles, but it's a sad one. "It's his birthday today, you know, coincidentally."

Theo looks at him in surprise. No, he didn't know.

"He was a simple man," Stiles continues, "He would just want mom to make him barbecue ribs and chocolate cake. It was the one day of the year when dad could cheat on his diet the most," he sniffs, drying his face. He confesses, "I still miss them every day."

Theo opens and closes his mouth, not sure of the right words to say. Maybe there aren't. So, he moves closer and takes Stiles's free hand in his.

Stiles gives him a small, grateful twitch of the lips before he gazes upon the lake view, "There are days when I live in my head," he admits. Stiles squeezes their joined hands -holding onto Theo. "But they're significantly less now."

They stand there for a moment, hand-in-hand, just two boys, the watching lake, and the setting sun.

With the last rays of light, Stiles turns to him, a bright smile on his face now. At the back of his mind, Theo thinks about how Stiles carries the dawn with him. 

Stiles pockets the badge and tugs on their clasping hands. 

"Wanna go home?"

~•~

v.

They are thirteen when Theo's father gets diagnosed with prostate cancer. Theo's great-grandfather died of the same illness. He's undergoing radiation therapy, and their parents tell him his dad is faring just fine. But Theo hears them talk, and he hears Tara cry. They tell him not to be, but he's scared all the same.

Stiles stays up at night all over the computer screen, which was a gift from Theo's parents just months ago. In the morning, he buries his nose in numerous books. At school, he's always beside Theo whenever he can.

Theo gets the feeling that they're babying him on top of lying and keeping him in the dark.

He snaps at Stiles when he turns up late in the dispatch area after class. His mother drives them now, to and from the school, since his dad got sick. Stiles opens his mouth to apologize, but Theo cuts him off.

"If you have all the time in the world to waste," his face is twisted and red. There's something at the back of his mind that's warning him as he speaks that he ignores. It is strange; he's never been angry with Stiles. But he is today. " _I_ don't. I could be doing something better than wait for your ass while you're in the fricking library!"

"Theo!" His mom exclaims, horrified at his behavior.

They get into the car; Theo's fuming and Stiles quiet.

When they arrive home, Theo promptly locks himself in the bedroom, screaming to the pillows. He falls asleep in an exhausted rage and wakes up when it's almost dark outside to a soft rapping on the door.

He exhales and jumps down from his bunk. It's Stiles on the other side. Of course, this is his bedroom too. There's only a slight twinge of guilt mixing with Theo's overall sour mood.

Stiles hesitates, then, "It's only us and Tara tonight."

His brows arch in expectation.

"Your mom rushed out about twenty minutes ago," Stiles fiddles with his fingers as he struggles with words. "A colleague called her. Your dad's in the hospital."

Theo processes the information for a moment and, if possible, gets even angrier with what he hears. Fisting his hands, he stomps past Stiles, jostling his shoulder, down the steps, into the living room where Tara sits bent on herself. Her head is dipped low, and her hands are clasped together as if in silent supplication.

The sight of her only intensifies his fury. Theo rounds on Tara, who looks up to her brother with shiny eyes. "What is going on?" He demands, heaving, words rushing out of him all at once. "Why is nobody telling me anything? I'm _thirteen_! I would hurt now, too, if dad died. I have the right to know if I'm about to lose a parent!"

It is evident that something is terribly wrong when instead of calling him out for lashing, Tara sags into the couch and covers her face with her hands, breaking down into the cushions.

He doesn't remember moving, or walking away from Tara, or riding his bike, but he somehow ends up in the lake. He picks up stones in the path and throws them in the water, one-by-one; the bigger splash, the better.

He screams with every rock he launches. He loses count of how many there have been, but his last one is a stone double the size of Theo's fist. He raises it over his head, leans his body backward, and hurtles forward with the force of his throw.

It hits the water in a loud plop, promptly sinks, and creates big ripples in the water.

He's wheezing, hands in his knees, sweaty, throat and mouth dry and hoarse. Only a portion of his anger abates, but now that it's out of the way, he feels himself dropping to the ground for a different reason. He hasn't felt this in a long time - the last was just before he realized there aren't monsters coming out of closets. 

He's terrified out of his mind.

There are more than a few times his parents disappointed his little boy's heart. Their work takes them many places, requires most of their time, thus leaving Tara and Theo to the care of strangers. They're more frequently gone than around. But when they are, they make every second worthwhile, and to Theo, it makes up for their absence. He's not going to lie and say he isn't still bitter for all the missed opportunities, but he _loves_ them. He loves them with all his thirteen-year-old heart could give. He loves his mom and dad, and this fear of possibly losing one of them is consuming him. 

He bends his knees and bows his head and cries like never in years. He's a tough kid, he knows, but today he wants to claw at his chest because it feels crushed inside. He wants to soothe it a little -to make it stop constricting too much.

All of a sudden, a weight settles behind him. Arms embrace him as a head leans on his back. Theo doesn't need to look to know who it is. There's only one who could provide the most comfort just by being around.

Stiles doesn't say anything. He kneels and hugs Theo from behind. He's never met another person as tactile as Stiles. Once he's opened up to Theo's family, he makes it a point to touch them always: a small kiss for Theo's mom, a high-five with his dad, leaning his head on Tara's shoulder and pressing close to Theo during the movie nights.

Stiles has never told anyone he loves them, and he's grateful, and he's happy to have them. He doesn't have to.

"I'm sorry," Theo breaks the comfortable silence when he's calm enough, reassured by the other boy's presence. "that I locked you out."

Stiles shifts a little behind him but doesn't pull away. Theo thinks he nods. "I read about prostate cancer," is what he says. "I saw this website where survivors share their stories. I emailed them to your dad. I was hoping it would help."

Theo's chest clench again. He bites his lower lip.

"And then I borrowed a few books from the library so I could read facts about it. I found out quite a lot of things," Stiles pauses. "Do you want me to tell you?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Theo nods.

So Stiles tells him what he knows from reading. During the entire informative speech, Stiles moves from hugging Theo to putting one arm around him and sitting beside him on the grass facing the now dark lake.

"So, yes, it's a pretty scary illness," Stiles says after a lengthy explanation of its diagnosis, treatment, and recovery procedures. "I asked your mom, and she was pretty surprised that I know about the Gleason Scale. But she told me your dad's score is 7 - intermediate."

Theo turns slightly to his side. Stiles is busy watching the lake as he talks, and Theo is left to study at the moles dotting one side of his face as he listens. 

"I didn't mean to, but I also saw a letter from a Dr. Henshaw in the mail. I searched for him. He's a urologist from Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, and I saw a lot of good feedback," Stiles looks sideways to Theo. This up-close, Theo can see how light his brown eyes are. Stiles must have mistaken his silent gawking as confusion because he smirks a little. "A urologist is a specialist for the male reproductive system, including the prostate."

Theo's listening, he is, but all he can manage to do is nod.

Stiles smiles, "I think they're considering a surgery, which is probably the best option, Theo. We just have to," he reflects, eyes glossing for a moment, then finishes. "be there for him."

Theo has half a mind to forget the sad expression on Stiles's face, but he recognizes what it is. He knows Stiles well and the emotions that pass him.

"Just like you were there for your mom?"

He startles for a second, the subject coming unexpectedly, and then nods with a curl in his lips. "Until the end."

Theo takes Stiles's arms off his shoulder and entwines their fingers instead, holding on firmly. He doesn't have words. He has so much to say to Stiles - how everything is better with him, how Theo clings on to the brightness he creates for everyone despite the shadows around him that he continues to fight.

In the end, Theo decides with, "Thank you, Stiles."

Stiles beams in the night that settles over the lake. The sun has been down for a while.

He bumps a fisted hand to Theo's shoulder, "That's what best friends are for, Raeken."

"I'm glad you're mine," then, squinting his eyes and side-eyeing Stiles, he adds. "Even though you're a pain in the ass sometimes."

Stiles laughs, and Theo's worries fade.

Somehow, with Stiles, he starts to believe. He's not going to lose his dad. They're frightened, reasonably so, but they're going to be okay.

Stiles untangles their fingers to stand, patting away the dirt at the back of his pants. He turns to Theo and extends his hand down to him.

"Let's go home, Theo."

~•~

vi.

They are fourteen and in freshman year in high school when Stiles meets Isaac Lahey. They've known Isaac in middle grade, of course, but neither Theo nor Stiles ever exchanged more than five words with the boy before. He was a solitary person, withdrawn from everybody, and while Stiles grew out of that, Lahey seemingly never did.

Until high school, that is. Isaac is not an instant Mr. Popular, but he gains attention and notoriety enough for people to recognize his previously unheard-of name. Lahey joins the lacrosse team, makes it to the first line, walks at school with a more visible presence, and still retains his enigmatic personality.

Theo feels indifferent with Lahey in general, but also cautious and even a tad sympathetic. There was a time, months ago, when he overheard his parents discussing a domestic abuse case, specifically a child-related one. Theo would customarily turn on his heels and retrace his steps upstairs to give his parents their privacy back. But Theo heard Lahey's name. So, instead, he paused and listened.

Lahey's father was in prison for physical abuse charges. He hit his son, Isaac, daily and subject the boy to verbal and emotional trauma, as well. Isaac's mother was out of the picture, and his dad was a drunk s.o.b. (his mom's words) who deserved to rot behind bars. Now, Isaac stays with some maternal relatives, and he sees a doctor to assess his mental and emotional stability.

He knows too much information about a stranger, so Theo does his best to act casual around Isaac. They have more classes together this year, so he gets to observe the boy discreetly.

For the most part, Lahey looks like a typical high school boy-next-door with an inner propensity to break a few rules with his tall height, curly blond hair, and coy troublemaker smile, but Theo notices more than his exterior. Ordinarily, Theo won't obsess on anybody's mysterious-boy antics, if not for Stiles.

It came all of a sudden, Stiles befriending Lahey. Lydia tells him that it's because Stiles had helped him in class - _but of course._ It's Jackson all over again. Except, Theo knows it's not. Isaac sits with them at lunch sometimes, head bent with Stiles over class notes, murmuring in their little bubble. But on other days, Stiles apologetically excuses and joins Isaac at a different table with Lahey's friends.

Soon, Stiles gets adopted into Lahey's small band of misfits. He gets along well with Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd, Isaac's closest friends like they've known each other for _years_. It's like they take past tragedies as common ground that feed their friendship.

It makes Theo irrationally jealous.

He doesn't feel possessive because Stiles has new friends -they've gained a circle of their own throughout the years with Jackson, Danny, Lydia, Kira, and Allison, sometimes Josh and Corey- no. It's because it's Isaac Lahey.

Theo notices it quickly, as he notices everything about Stiles.

Theo's parents have brought them individual mobile phones to help with schoolwork before the beginning of the semester. The items used to rest unused in their desks, but now, Stiles keeps it close and frequently receives messages in them.

Theo's sure it's Lahey, and he finds himself clenching his jaw at the sound of fingers tapping on the screen every single time.

What used to be indifference quickly morphs into unwarranted dislike.

Then, it happens -the first sleepover without Theo.

Theo's parents are not around. They're under Mrs. Dorothea's care, an elderly neighbor, for at least the next couple of weeks. Stiles has her wrapped around his fingers, so she consents immediately, saying how she once babysat Erica.

Tara also shrugs and allows as the purpose of the sleepover is academic since Stiles has gotten to also helping both Erica and Boyd with school stuff.

It could have been worse with Theo lying alone for the first time in years in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling, wondering what Stiles is doing. He hates that he's clingy, but at this point, it's inevitable. Still, Theo holds himself back. But eventually, Stiles does what Theo's too proud to do -he calls him.

"I just wanted to say goodnight," Stiles says from the other end. "I thought you wouldn't be able to answer."

"Couldn't sleep," Theo admits, holding the phone to his ears. _I miss you_ -he wants to add. He chews his lips to stop the words.

But it seems he doesn't need to say it for Stiles to know. "Don't worry, Theo," he says in a light, playful tone. "And stop missing me so much."

Theo's response is a small scoff, but he betrays that with a private smile.

"I'll come home to you, anyway."

~•~

vii.

But when they're fifteen, sophomores now, Stiles confesses to Theo.

"I think I like Isaac," Stiles says out of the blue, in the middle of a movie marathon in their room.

Theo purses his lips together, forming a thin line. Lahey's name comes up more often now, and Theo _hates_ it. He bites his tongue to block a harsh retort. He schools a blank expression and arches a disinterested brow, not even deigning to spare Stiles a glance.

Stiles continues, "He kissed me,"

 _That_ makes Theo halt; he's sure he even stops breathing for a second. When he regains his ability to move, he turns to Stiles and doesn't bother hiding the frown on his face. He makes sure it's on blatant display.

Stiles mistakes it as something else because he hurries to assure, "I kissed him back."

No, that doesn't lighten Theo's mood at all.

He glares and pays no heed that he's crushing the bag of Doritos in his hands. Stiles gnaws at his lower lip, anxious, waiting for Theo's words. Theo doesn't have one that isn't profane and against Isaac _freaking_ Lahey. Grounding his teeth, he forces himself to move back to the computer screen. 

His heartbeat is uneven as he glowers, unseeing, at the monitor.

After a while, realizing he's not going to get a reply, Stiles scoots closer, pressing the sides of their bodies. "Theo?" he prompts. "Are you mad?"

Exhaling through his nose, Theo responds, voice tight that contradicts his answer. "Why would I be?"

Stiles is silent for a long time. Theo tries to put his attention back to the movie, but he's only seeing meaningless movements and hearing indistinct noises. Theo doesn't know why he's still surprised. He was always suspicious. Probably, Theo isn't. He's unaccepting, is more likely.

The chips in his hands have turned to useless powdery bits.

Stiles speaks again, tone anxious, "I'll stay over at Isaac's tomorrow night." It comes out more as a question than a statement.

Theo swallows through the big lump in his throat.

Logically, he should be supportive of his best friend developing feelings, even if it's for Isaac Lahey. But he can't bring himself to pretend he is. Something inside him keeps on nagging about Lahey and how Theo should keep Stiles away from him -that he's bad news. But he can't do that, can he? No matter if he wants to.

"You'll come home in the morning, though?"

Stiles reaches down and interlaces their fingers. Stiles still does this, but the gesture is so much more to Theo now than it used to be.

"I'll always come home."

It's a promise, but to Theo's ears, it sounds like an omen.

~•~

viii.

When they are sixteen, and in junior year, it turns upside down for Theo.

His father's prostate cancer returns more potent, and within only three months, he's gone. His mother flings herself to more work to exhaust herself to numbness. She checks on them at least once daily by calling or through an email. Tara is a freshman in college at Berkeley, studying political science, and despite being in the same state, she finds excuses not to come home. Tara had been a daddy's girl. She frequently calls, skypes, and leaves voicemails to both Stiles and Theo. Even so, Theo doesn't know what to do with all the space in the house.

He lost everyone all at once.

Stiles pulls Theo to share the lower bunk with him one night. They're a narrow fit, but it's the most comfortable he's been in a while. Theo opens his arm to Stiles, and there's a brief moment of hesitation in his expression before Stiles lays his head on Theo's chest. Their proximity feels much more intimate now than when they were children, and Theo's pulse quickens.

They're unmoving, unspeaking, afraid to collide within the tension blanketing them.

But Stiles, always the braver one, moves to take Theo's hand in his like they've held a million times before. Their fingers fit well, even back when they were twelve. _They_ match well together.

"You still got me, okay?"

And Theo believes him. 

But when morning comes and sunlight streams in through the open blinds, he looks down at the boy in his arms. His eyes roam the expanse of Stiles's face. He's grown out of his bony cheeks and eternal pale skin and has developed attractively with time. His lashes are fluttering softly in his sleep, and the even sink and rise of his chest are reassuring.

But then Theo's eyes travel lower and find the healing bruise on his collarbone. His breath hitches, gaze locking on the offending mark and what it alludes.

After Stiles's confession of him and Isaac kissing a year ago, there's no more talk about it evolving into something more. And although it's obvious to his eyes, Theo dismisses the notion every time. If something is going on between them, Stiles would tell him. As long as Stiles hasn't breathed a word to Theo's face, he's not going to let it eat away at his brain -until now.

That hickey is a brand -a declaration loud enough for Theo to hear. 

He abruptly tears his arm around Stiles, nudging him awake, and sits. Anger bubbles and rises from the pit of his stomach, blocking his airways. Theo, at least, expected to know about it before seeing any concrete evidence. Stiles can't even give him that.

"Theo?" Stiles asks, groggy from sleep. He reaches to touch Theo's arm, but he jerks away. His reaction clears the sleep-induced fog in Stiles's brain because he immediately sharpens. His expression changes to worry. "What's wrong?"

Theo attempts to choke on the words, but they come tumbling out of his mouth. "Are you sleeping with Lahey?" he asks it with unmasked contempt.

The question throws off Stiles, as his eyes widen and mouth falls open. For a moment, he only stares at Theo. Then his shoulders droop, and he turns to pull his legs from the mattress to the floor. His face twitches, calculating.

"I," he begins, then cuts. Stiles grappling with an explanation is an answer on its own. The boy cups the side of his neck and rubs. "He's, sort of, my boyfriend now."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Theo accuses, crawling off the bunk to tower over Stiles. His fists ball at his sides.

Stiles looks like he's wincing as he nibbles on his lip, "It didn't seem important with everything going on," he points out. "I want to be there for you because I know what it feels like."

Theo knows deep where his logic sits, that what Stiles says is sensible. But jealousy is a monster that doesn't listen to reason -it only knows to rage.

"Well, it's important to me," Theo snaps, face flushing. "You said I still got you."

Stiles gives in and frowns, "You _do_ ," he insists, confusion written in his face. "I only have a boyfriend, Theo. It doesn't change anything between us."

"Yeah?" Theo scoffs in ridicule. "Well, tell that to me after."

Stiles is losing his patience, cheeks starting to blotch in crimson. He doesn't appreciate condescension, Theo knows. "After _what_?"

In a single step forward, Theo closes the distance between them and sinks to the floor in front of Stiles. Theo grabs his face with both hands, partially notes the shock in brown eyes, and kisses Stiles.

Theo only lingers for a few seconds before pulling away like he's burnt. Stiles is so stunned that he can only gape and stare stupidly at Theo.

Theo curls his lips, "It hasn't been the same to me for a long time,"

Stiles closes his mouth, various emotions flickering in his face at the same time. Before he can gather his wits and reject Theo, he beats Stiles to it.

Crossing his arms tightly, he tells Stiles. "You can use Tara's room. She won't be coming back and won't run out of excuses to make. " Theo diverts his gaze behind one of Stiles's shoulders. He doesn't want to keep watching Stiles's growing disbelief mixing in with the other conflicting emotions crossing all over features. 

"Are you," Stiles blinks rapidly, flinging his hands in the air. "Are you _throwing_ me _out_?"

Clenching his jaw, he meets Stiles's eyes. "Did I stutter?"

Stiles falters, standing at once. The red in his face has spread down to his collarbones. He grinds his teeth when his eyes fall to the spot where the mark is visible. Stiles exhales a sharp breath, "Don't you think this is unfair? We can talk-"

Theo's eyes flash, "I don't care for fair, Stiles. And talk is the last thing I want to do. Just pack and get the hell out of my room." he turns on his heels and yanks the door open. The smallest voice of sanity in himself tries to halt Theo from making a stupid decision while at the summit of his temper. But he places a silencer on it. He slams the door to Stiles's pleading voice.

~•~

Stiles moves into Tara's old bedroom, and Theo lays at night fuming -at himself, at Stiles, _everything_. He had a good life. Why does it have to be fucked over?

He barely answers his mother and Tara's calls anymore. He lets Stiles talk to them and lie that everything's okay back home. Nothing is.

Theo brings people around, none of their mutual friends, all strangers and for a specific purpose only, and invites them back to his room when he knows Stiles can hear. He doesn't know what he hopes to achieve, but this yearning for retaliation gnaws at his skin until he gives in and fucks meaningless faces in Stiles's old bunk bed. After, Theo isn't even satisfied, and it enrages him more by tenfold.

He throws these random people out -girls and boys alike- in the middle of the night because he feels nauseous just looking at them. He's chewing half-heartedly at a leftover pizza, having just kicked the latest insignificant fuck, when Stiles bounds down the stairs, hoisting a backpack. He pauses in his tracks when he spots Theo.

They haven't acknowledged each other, much less talk, since that morning of Theo's confession -mostly by Theo's avoidance efforts. He looks at Stiles now and sees the difference in his appearance. There are rings around his reddish eyes, and the vibrance in his color is turning back to sickly pale. He even seems thinner and in a permanent state of exhaustion.

Stiles looks down, fingers fidgeting around an unlabeled medicine bottle. Theo recognizes that. It's the same prescription drugs his mother is taking since his father's death -she also keeps them in an unnamed container. He's sure Stiles shouldn't have access to it, though.

"Why are you taking pills?" Theo nods at the bottle in his hands.

Stiles opens his mouth to deny but thinks better of it. "I'm having trouble sleeping,"

Theo lifts his eyebrows, gauging for an elaboration.

Stiles shrugs, darting his gaze around. "The usual when I was a kid: insomnia, parasomnia, extreme anxiety. My mind is just all over the place and nowhere at the same time."

Theo frowns, "I thought those were gone,"

"Not entirely," Stiles peers up, looking hopeful that they've exchanged more than a few words for the first time in long, dragging weeks. "They've just gone dormant."

"What, like a volcano?"

Stiles detects the gibe in Theo's tone because his face closes off again like a switch. He purses his lips, bearing his gaze straight on Theo. " _Exactly_ ,"

Negative tension simmers amidst them, so Stiles decides to drop the conversation and advances toward the door. Before he opens it, he glances back to Theo, who is following his retreating figure.

"I'll be-"

Theo rudely interrupts with a sneer, "I don't care if you come home or not."

Stiles's eyes begin to water, but he smiles tight-lipped all the same. "Well, I am. That sucks for you. I'll always come home even when it's not much anymore."

Stiles bangs the door on his way out.

~•~

ix.

Seventeen, in senior year, and Theo discovers that sleeping volcanoes can wake faster than initially thought. According to National Geographic: _dormant volcanoes can stir to life in mere days instead of years_ , and Theo sees that.

He sees that in the alarming number of empty bottles of Librium in Stiles's room. Theo especially sees that in the quick shift from [_benzodiazepines_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.merriam-webster.com%2Fdictionary%2Fbenzodiazepine&t=NDJlYzBhN2ZkMzk2NmEwZTliY2E4MDJhZWE4MzNiY2RmM2UwZDBlYywxODY2OWJiM2YyYmExODI3M2U0NzUzMmE3NTA3MDdjNGFhZjM2NmJi&ts=1606619950) to [_barbiturates_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.merriam-webster.com%2Fdictionary%2Fbarbiturates&t=YWFhMjU3NjhiMDQ2ZDNlNDdjODU1ZjVjMmJjYzM5MDliZTk1NjBhMCw5M2U4MmQwNzQxYTE5YzZjMmFkMjJkYjlkODQzYzFkYmI2OGI5MzAw&ts=1606619950).

He doesn't know how long he stands suspended in Stiles's empty room. He had only meant to retrieve something of Tara's but instead found evidence of what Theo already suspected.

He sinks to the bed, head in his hands. He's so dumb. He should have known right from the first time he saw Stiles with the sleeping pills. He should have done something. He loves Stiles, and he should've paid attention sooner and listened to his suspicions.

Instead, he drills in Stiles's head that he doesn't care any longer. Theo is so wrapped in his heartbreak that he didn't notice Stiles's.

Taking his jacket, he speeds out into the night toward Lahey's house. Stiles hasn't come home in two days, and for all that he insists on it, Theo cares very much for Stiles coming home to him at the end of the day. He'll always care.

When he pulls into the driveway of Lahey's address, he yells for Stiles. He calls two more times before the front door wrenches open to a scowling Isaac Lahey.

"Dude," Lahey says, tone spilling heat. "It's past midnight. What the hell is your problem?"

Theo's anger billows from deep inside, and he shoves at Isaac's chest to release it. The force and abruptness have the taller male stumbling back. " _You're_ my problem!" He rushes forward into the premise and swings his arm hard. There's a dull ache in his fist, but he ignores it as Isaac crashes to the floor, nose bleeding.

"Theo!" Stiles's voice rings in the night, but Theo doesn't stop his assault. His vision zeros on Lahey and he centers his pent up rage on him.

He makes use of Isaac's shock and straddles the boy, taking him by the collar and connecting another blow in his chiseled face. He'd manage the third one if Stiles has not intercepted.

He pushes Theo off his boyfriend and helps Isaac to his feet. When he's upright, Stiles whips his head and glares at Theo. "What the hell, Theo?"

His answer is to point a finger to Isaac, baring his teeth. "This asshole and her friend Erica are the ones giving you barbiturates, aren't they?"

The accusation catches Stiles off-guard, but he finds his purchase quickly. His jaw clenches, the knuckles of the hand around Isaac turning to white. "Did you go through my stuff?"

"I didn't," Theo grits out. "But I found them anyway, and I can't believe your _boyfriend_ ," he spat the word with utter loathing, "would let you be dependent."

Isaac sneers and prepares to retort, but Stiles gives him a look. "Let me handle this,"

Lahey looks like he's going to argue, but he concedes. He murmurs a question, to which Stiles nods and drops a kiss on top of his head. Theo scoffs disdainfully, averting his eyes from the appalling display.

When Isaac climbs back up the stairs, Stiles pulls Theo firmly by the arm and leads them outside. He's more burned-out than angry when he faces Theo. The dark circles in his eyes are more prominent under the dim cast of the porch light. His fingers have also felt bony around Theo.

How could Theo let this happen?

Stiles crosses his arms across his chest, a gesture of protection more than anything else. "Are you insane? Why would you come at an ungodly hour and charge Isaac like that?"

"He's tolerating your use of the pills," Theo pronounces with emphasis on each word. "This drug is not something you can just flush from your system."

"What if I don't want to?" Stiles sounds choked by his voice. "Did that ever cross your mind?"

Theo falters, startled by the reply.

Stiles's eyes are starting to dampen. "I told you before that I live in my head sometimes," there's a small pause. "It's becoming more permanent now. My brain tricks me even at waking hours. I only," he breathes through his nose, "want to sleep in peace."

"It won't help you escape,"

"I'm not trying to escape," Stiles's eyes are heavy with emotion as he tries to make Theo understand. "I want to accept it without fear."

Theo shakes his head, stepping forward, holding Stiles by the arms. "Stiles," he locks their gazes, doing his best to convey his desperation. "We can ask for help-"

Stiles draws away, twisting his face. "From a shrink who will tell me I'm crazy as if I don't already _know_ that?" His eyes are wide and wet, and Theo thinks about how he doesn't resemble the boy who used to carry the dawn with him. He's the storm coming back to destroy.

"You're not crazy," Theo spits the word, feeling himself take the offense for Stiles. He doesn't want to hear this. He just wants his Stiles back. "Please," he implores again. "Let me-"

"Go home, Theo."

The small voice with which he says it hits Theo like a sledgehammer to his chest.

When Stiles lifts his eyes, steel behind the unshed tears, to meet Theo's, it feels so final. "If you love me, please go home."

~•~

x.

Eighteen. Eighteen, and Theo might lose another person close to his heart. He can't do this. Theo can't bury anyone again. He's not even old enough to drink himself senseless.

His hands are shaking badly, and he can hardly see what he's pressing on the screen. His eyes are so blurry, and even when it flows like a fall, the tears come nonstop. People glance at him when they pass by, but he doesn't pay them attention. He doesn't need pity; there's  _ nothing _ to pity.

Finally, he hears the ringing. The person on the other end picks up in two rings. "Theodore, baby?"

At the voice of his mother, he gasps out the air he's holding and gives in. "Mom," he chokes out, tasting salt in his mouth. "Mom, mom, please come home. Mom, please."

Her mother's voice instantly sharpens, "Theo, what happened?"

Theo doesn't know what he tells her. The words stream out of his mouth, but he isn't sure they're comprehensible. He might just be babbling and sobbing, but his mom tells him that she'll come immediately, that she's on her way. Her mom might've been crying, too. Theo can't say for sure, but it sounds like it.

Next, he dials Tara. Her sister is also quick to pick it up, and Theo thinks bitterly that, at least, fate is not making it difficult to reach people. He can't do this alone.

" _ Tara _ , god. Tara," he moans despairingly, unhinged. He doesn't seem like himself. "Tara, it's Stiles. He-"

Theo loses bearings of the time, the rush of movements around him, the faint murmurs of people in the background, and the sterile smell in the air. He only sits on the ground, curled on himself, clutching his phone like a lifeline.

His head is bent down, and even when he squeezes his wet eyes, he can see the images, vivid and sharp, at the back of his eyelids.

Of how he came home to a quiet house, and his ribs ached at the memory of bitter argument the night before. About Stiles losing too much weight in such a short period and hanging on to sanity by a thread. Of how Stiles had yelled that he had never gotten rid of his shadows, he just learned how to wear it with a smile. Of how the mind was the worst traitor. 

And how Theo went to knock in his room to apologize. Of how he thought to himself he would not leave Stiles's side again, that he would help him hush the voices in his head. Of how nobody answered, but the door to the bedroom unlocked. Of how Stiles was lying on the bed, face at peace for the first time in a long while.

Of how it's  _ too _ peaceful he wasn't breathing.

Of how Theo thought he screamed but didn't.

Of how Stiles felt like a paperweight threatening to fall from his grasp,

Of how he couldn't see the road the entire drive to the emergency room,

Of how it felt like an eternity of sunsets,

Of how he wished he could go back the first night nine years ago and not scream at Stiles when he grieved for home.

Of how all Theo can think of now is how much he wants to go home.

"Please," he begs the wind. "Let me take you home."

~•~

xi.

Theo takes him home.

~•~

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/)


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